


Thrown in Overdrive

by Dekka



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:27:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: Auston practices control in every aspect of his life.Mitch...doesn't.aka: how Mitch learns to be a sub and, in turn, teaches Auston that control isn't everything.





	Thrown in Overdrive

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is super fake. Completely made up. 
> 
> If you know anyone in the tags, please save us both the embarrassment and click away.

Auston’s not one to tease himself. 

He doesn’t stare after a girl once she’s left her number in his phone and he doesn’t drink to get drunk, either. 

If someone wants him they have to work for it. 

They have to beg. 

They have to be sober. 

They have to have a safe word. 

Mitch -doing, being, and having, all these things- looks good on his knees and sounds even better as he pleads for a chance to show Auston just how good he can be. 

And while Auston isn’t one to be persuaded easily, something in him gives at the sight, his hand reaching forward in a way he’d name as uncontrolled if he didn’t practice control like the amish practice their religion. 

This is his altar. 

This is his hallelujah.

His breath only goes clinically even as Mitch nuzzles into his palm, glancing up at him with eyes wide enough to drown in. 

He’s so far gone already and they haven’t even begun yet. 

“Recite,” Auston commands, and like clockwork Mitch begins, looking to the ground obediently as he lists off all of his safe words, both verbal and non-verbal. 

If it weren’t for the way he shifts, sitting back on his heels, Auston would be pleased.

“Sit up straight. Don’t move. Try again.” 

He’s being lenient tonight and he doesn’t know why. 

They had a rough loss, a rough game, and he’s just mad enough to be riding the edge of a nearly pulled trigger. 

Even still, he pushes for control of something. 

As Mitch begins again, staying perfectly still this time, his eyes not even daring to glance up, Auston can’t bear to watch him while trying to steady his own breathing. 

Control, pain, and domination have always came naturally to him, but something about Mitch sucks the air from the room, testing his temperament like no sub ever has before. 

“I’m done with you,” he decides, stripping off his tie and tossing it to the side. 

He’s not going to do this if he can’t control himself. Mitch can’t take that kind of pain and Auston doesn’t want to be the one to blame when he comes to practice limping. 

It’s hard to ignore the way Mitch risks a glance up at him, openly pleading against a command, but Auston can’t let himself be swayed. “You heard me,” he says sternly, pulling Mitch up by the meat of his arm and pushing him towards his discarded tie. They'll deal with his minor disobedience later. 

Tonight is a good night; Mitch doesn’t fight him further, keeping his head low as he collects Auston’s suit jacket and tie, hanging them up while Auston strips down from the rest of his clothes, throwing article after article of clothing to the ground. 

It isn’t until everything is perfectly hung that he pulls Mitch to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and pushing him towards the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

Without Mitch in the room everything comes back to ground level, his lungs finally allowed to go breathless and his mind finally allowed to wonder. He doesn't know when his body started to defy him, getting too worked to up to even allow play, but he knows it’s Mitch that pushes him over his edge; Mitch who’s so quick to test, to fight, to not submit. 

Auston wants him so bad that he knows he can’t control it- knows that if Mitch pushed him now he’d take him over his lap and not listen to a word he’d say until he begged to be good- and it’s a terrifying thought, to think it's possible you could lose control while someone's relying on you to extract choice from all facets of their life. 

It's a thought that keeps him up at night, worried Mitch will back out of their relationship if only for way his dom can’t dominate, too scared to push the boundaries in fear of not being able to turn back. Because it was Auston who brought Mitch into this life; It was Auston who taught him how submit- is teaching him, still- and it shouldn't be him that's having a problem delivering what he's brought to table. 

All he feels is a crack in his perfectly sculpted armor where he’s supposed to be the most powerful, and he doesn’t deal well with equipment failure, yet alone a failure within himself. 

By the time Mitch is back from the bathroom, drowning in Auston's sweats, Auston can barely look at him, his hands shaking traitorously with want. 

“Goodnight, Mitch,” he says into the dark of his room, his back turned to him in bed. 

He’s surprised at the evenness of his own voice, and even more surprised by the way Mitch tests him, coming closer until he’s able to carefully wrap his arm around Auston's waist, touching him as if touching a wild animal. 

The move has his freshly regained breath stuttering, starkly obvious in the silence of the room. 

Mitch doesn’t see it as weakness, he knows, but it still feels like one to be at the will of another man. 

Even so, Auston lets himself have this, allowing his body to be held, letting himself take comfort in a way he’s never received before in this capacity. 

In the silence of the room, against the back of his shoulder, he can just make out the feel of Mitch whispering his unsaid sentiment back; “I love you. Goodnight.” 

-

_Winter, 2016._

Mitch remembers the first time he found out about Auston’s- _control thing? BDSM kink? Fifty shades of grey fetish?_ \- extracurricular bedroom activities. 

It was like this; 

The lights around them dimmed, low, a steady thrum of music drowning the masses, bass vibrating through the dirty air, and in the midst of all this chaos, them.

They were too many drinks in, shoulder to shoulder on some couch, at some teammate’s house, beside too many people to count, and it came up so naturally, if not a bit out of left field. 

“Why aren’t you picking up tonight?” Mitch had asked. There were plenty of girls there, friends of friends that knew better than to talk about their one night stand with hockey superstar _Auston Matthews_ \- insert swoon here - _first round, first pick_. 

It was around that time, as Auston was considering the crowd around them, that Mitch’s head started feeling heavy (probably from the joint he shared with Freddie), and he found himself leaning more and more against Auston until his friend took over, huffily guiding his head into his lap in a way that would be considered practiced, perfected, if not for the way Auston rarely allowed them to get so close. 

After, Mitch remembers Auston looking down at him as he stroked a hand through his hair, smiling like they had all the time in the world to ignore the question Mitch had asked. It had seemed that way too, because Mitch's eyes had slipped closed to revel in the feel of Auston's rough, yet gentle hand, carding through his hair. 

Forever fickle, time seemed to change pace once Mitch realized their intimate position, moving too quickly as Auston decided to pull his hand away, seeming to remember himself and the unanswered question. 

“I don’t find it pleasurable,” Auston had said then, easy and with a shrug. 

Mitch thinks he may or may not have started quoting Taken right around then- scrunching his nose as he asked Auston about his “ _very specific set of skills_ ” in the bedroom. 

“Do you find your lay... and do you kill them?” Mitch had teased, his Liam Neeson voice sill intact, taking the joke a step further, past it’s lifecycle. 

When Auston had smirked and dragged his bottom lip into his mouth to bite at, to hide his smile, Mitch knew he was done for. 

If he was pressed at court he’d say that he asked Auston to kiss him, but that could have just been his mind screaming the words _kiss me, kiss me, please_ , and he honestly cant remember. It happened so fast. 

One second he was staring up at Auston’s ridiculous face and the next he was watching it press closer, crowding in until their lips were touching and Auston's hand was back in his hair with another holding him steady by the jaw, and Mitch had no choice but to let himself feel, his eyes dropping closed as he gave into the hot, wet press of Auston’s lips against his. 

As fast as it came was as fast as it ended. 

“You made me break my own rules,” Auston had said right after, still close enough for Mitch to feel the ghost of his breath. 

Despite their long since separated lips, his hand still cupped Mitch's face, and it was then that his thumb swept forward, dragging the remains of their kiss around the bottom of Mitch's lip as his eyes traced the movement. For a moment then Mitch swore he felt Auston lean in again, but as his eyes were already slipping closed to welcome the kiss, Auston had sat back heavily, his thumb still on Mitch's lips and his hand still in his hair, connecting them, keeping them close despite the distance. 

And with that new distance Mitch was able to think again, tracing over the conversation in an attempt to say something that wasn't just gibberish, as if he had swallowed his own tongue- which was a complete possibility at this point- and, curiously, he found words. 

“What rules?” Mitch had asked. 

At the time he was hoping for some kind of declaration of love- an admittance of " _I wanted you for so long, but I promised myself I wouldn't kiss you because I didn't want to ruin our friendship_ "- but his question worked just as well, Auston pulling them up from their sprawl with a steadying hand placed at the small of his back. 

"Come with me," he had said. It was an offer, clear as day, and as clear as the hand he held out for Mitch to take, and neither looked back from that moment, weaving their way through the crowded room with their hands intertwined between them.

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't have anything else written for this (I feel like that's how half my fics are rn sorry) so if you'd like to see more let me know and let me know what you'd like to see!
> 
> Comments feed the writer :)


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